


Like A Card Trick

by allegheny



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Cancer, Gen, Implied Bryzzo, M/M, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 11:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegheny/pseuds/allegheny
Summary: Anthony Rizzo versus The Sickness : the Rematch Of The Century!





	Like A Card Trick

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags for talks of cancer and death.

Such are things.  
Morose, unfair. The wine and beer of life.  
And again and again you numb yourself - just to think it's over.  
Anthony reads and reads it and he feels... profound... profound weariness... about the... gravity, the... heaviness, the... ah, fuck it. 

The cancer's back, and if whatever wants it it'll get him this time. Everybody's trying not to cry and Anthony's trying not to feel annoyed as an antidote for desperation.  
The trade-off is petty and bitter and he's outraged. What, was he having too much fun? Fucking preposterous. What's life for then? What, he's already waiting on a married guy who'll never purchase the guts to admit he wants Anthony. It's not all fun and games.  
But such are things!  
Mid-season 10-day DL for lower body pain, and suddenly it's back in limbo waiting to see if you'll end up the most recent entry on a listicle called "MLB Players Who Died During Their Careers". Anthony Rizzo versus The Sickness : the Rematch Of The Century! Bitch of a life. 

You've got to remember your cues. Got to stretch those dormant muscles. Remember how to be a good cancer patient. The do's and don't of keeping everyone happy while you suffer as gracefully as possible, because the horror, the disgusting grime of disease is too much to take for the naked eye. 

Anthony's tired just thinking of it, but there's no time to be tired. Everybody's looking at him, waiting for a reaction — you've got a festering orgy of cells ravaging you to living decay, what's your next move? The count's ahead of you, Rizz, so give it your best shot!

Your best shot, huh.  
Well, there you fucking go, everyone : he's done it once, he can do it again! Of course, what a silly fucking situation, of course he'll live.  
There's no question. When do we start? 

It's a beautiful fucking swing and the ball fucking connects, and it's knocked out of the fucking park, ding ding ding, home run, round those bases, dugout.

Such are things, Rizz. Numbness is needed. Go on, take a big swig from the wine and beer of life.  
Wince at the bitter aftertaste.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from (Hospital Vespers) by The Weakerthans.


End file.
